the story of a broken judge
by ashainthestars
Summary: A lone figure in a dark and bare room, what could be a study, with an palpable aura of tension hovering around the waiting woman. She is Galleria Marlon. New and youngest head of the Dark Star Bureau. A rising star in Levanthia...but then they say, the rising have the farthest to fall - and everyone has their own story. Genderbend Gallerian (first fanfic, please review)
1. Prologue

The ash tree gently waves its leafy branches over the five year old girl seated in its dappled shade - pouring over a heavy tome that seems at odds with her petite frame; or, indeed, her young age. Around her, the sun beats down on a shabby but peaceful neighborhood, where only a few people hurry through the streets cramped with grubby terraced houses.

Maybe there is something special about her. Maybe it's the sapphire colour of both her hair and her eyes - but, then again, there are others with exotic her colours in Levanthia. Not many, but hair colour alone doesn't make her special. Maybe its the way she avidly reads a book that most adults wouldn't dare to attempt. That could be the thing that makes her special, the way her bright young eyes scan the text, mind reading, analysing and debating what has been written.  
That is it. Her unusually gifted mind.

But then they say, the special have the most to fear. And those who are rising...they have the furthest to fall. There is an ominous shadow cast over her, cast by some unknown entirety just waiting for the right moment to close in on its prey. For now, her soul shines like a pure candle, never flickering, but a time will come. The time when it is corrupted into blackness.  
Until then, blissfully unaware of what her future holds, she reads on while the sun makes its passage along the sky.

The sound of footsteps rudely interrupt her, and she looks up to see Victoria Dartmoor. Victoria Dartmoor grins, then motions fir the rest of her small posse to cone over. Slowly, deliberately, she lowers her head until the two are eye to eye.

"Blueberry muffin." she says.

"Blueberry muffin" ducks her head down behind her book. "Can I help you?" she mumbles.  
Victoria grins again, a predatory smile that lights up her face. "What book is THAT? The history, law and politics of Levanthia! Are you kidding?! Not even ny nanna reads that stuff, blueberry muffin!"  
A drop of water splashes onto the pavement. "I-I thought it was quite interesting..."  
"Yeah right. You're such a...a...freak muffin! Oh, that's a perfect new nickname for stupid blueberry muffin!" Victoria and her gang exchange high fives. While they are momentarily distracted, the blue haired girl drops her book and runs, shoulders heaving.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Her heart is pounding, lungs gasping.

Breath in. Breath out.

Feet flying across the cobblestones, desperate to escape the other five year olds.  
She runs so fast that the world blurs around her, and for most of the time, her feet do not touch the ground: bringing her one step closer to flight.  
The girl finally reaches her house (no different from the others around it) and, looking right and left, prepares to discreetly slide inside.

But something stops her.

Something seems...very wrong.

Cautiously, she stands on tiptoe to slide her key into the lock-

 _Don't be silly, it's just a stupid instinct, they're both fine_

-and the door swings open, revealing a dark hallway lit by only a single, flickering bulb.  
She takes a single step forwards and her feet become sticky.  
Frowning, she touches her feet, both curious and unnerved at the same time. Her five year old mind is already racing to conclusions...  
...when she brings her hand away coated in a bright crimson.


	2. Chapter 1

As soon as I wake up, I lean over the shadowy edge of my bed and and vomit on the rug. I gasp, retching hard, eyes watering and hair sticking to my face.

 _It's just a recurring dream. That's what the counsellor said anyway. Don't let it affect you. Don't let it affect you._

The rug is soaked, again. I sigh and bundle it up, just about shoving it into the shower cubicle. I pick my way back out into the tiny room and take the duvet as well. I'll scrub them clean when Mike goes out, but for now I will just lock the door from the outside and pretend its because I don't want him to see "the state of" my bathroom.

Just as I'm about to leave for the second time, I catch a glance in the mirror and see my face.

 _I give up._

Not even going to attempt to go back to sleep. If I can't sleep on a normal night then what chance do I have after a nightmare? I'll just switch on the desk lamp and read over some material, filling my mind with law instead of thinking, of feeling. For a moment I reach to switch on the main light to chase away the lingering darkness. Then I sharply withdraw my hand.

 _If Mike sees it and comes in..._ He will sigh and shake his head and say he loves me but its getting too much now. He says its all a problem in my head and I'm just too weak to deal with it, and I agree with him.

If only I knew how to deal with it.

I heave open a Volume II of "General Law In Practise". When I met Mike, three years ago, we were at the end of high school, about to graduate to law school. I was 19, he 20, and we went to law school together. Young and enamoured with one other, convinced that the other was the true love. At law school, we took different classes; taking pains to see each other as often as possible, to not drift apart.

Mike decided in our second year that law was not the career for him.

We still love each other. We still love each other, don't we?

Now I'm not so sure. This summer I'm going to start an apprenticeship at the National Court as a junior lawyer and Mike...Mike is going into advertising. He didn't want to do "boring law". But we have to stay together, we have to... for the sake of the baby.

Michelle is less than six months old - so young - and sleeping in the room next door - because there is no room in here - there's barely space for my bed . If there was I would sleep with her. I would sleep on the floor with my darling Michelle.

Again, Mike disapproves. I don't have an obsession with Michelle - I just love her. She's my daughter. It's natural... I love her so much I would give up my life for her. I put down the book and look at the clock. _1:03._

 _I think I'll just check on her. Maybe go read in her room._

 _Hopefully Mike doesn't come along too._


End file.
